


Lazy Sunday Morning

by abi_lynne



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 22:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16773763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abi_lynne/pseuds/abi_lynne
Summary: Summary: Simon and Baz spend a lazy Sunday morning in bed. Cuddles, cuteness, and fluff.(Carry On Countdown 2018 day 4: fluff)





	Lazy Sunday Morning

Morning light streamed in through the open window, a slight breeze gusting in and blowing the curtains up. Simon shivered as the cold air touched his bare shoulder and pulled the blanket up higher, nearly to his chin. Next to him, Baz stirred in his sleep, turning to face Simon, eyes still closed.

Simon took a moment to look at Baz, at his peaceful, sleeping figure. His face was softer like this, Simon noted. Quieter. Not that Baz was a loud person – but his eyes were always saying something. His face was an expressive one, but his hair often hid it. It did now, curling around his neck and his ears and falling across his cheek. Simon wanted to brush it away, to tuck it back gently and softly – but he didn’t want to wake Baz.

Simon spent far too long staring before Baz’s eyes opened slowly, blinking awake. Simon turned and lay back on his pillow, cheeks flushing pink at nearly being caught.

“Do you know how many nights I spent watching you sleep?”

Simon turned, caught of guard by Baz’s question. Baz stared up at him, his face smushed into the pillow. His expression was one of amusement, but something else, too – sleepiness, probably. At Simon’s lack of response, Baz smiled, pushing his hair out of his face, “Don’t be embarrassed that I caught you, I mean. I spent so long watching you, it may as well be your turn.”

Simon laughed lightly at that, moving his hand up to stroke the other boy’s hair. “I spent plenty of time watching you, too. Just not when you slept.”   
Baz moved his head against Simon’s hand, “Good point.” He let out a sigh and smiled softly, closing his eyes. Rather like a content cat, Simon thought, continuing to stroke Baz’s soft black hair. He imagined Baz purring and nearly giggled, but instead posed the question:

“Why don’t we have a cat?”

Baz, eyes still closed, said, “Because we both know you want a dog.”

This was true. Simon did want a dog. A German Shepherd, maybe. Or a Dalmatian. Although Baz said that Simon reminded him of a Golden Retriever, so maybe they’d get one of those. “Why don’t we have a dog, then?”

“The lease won’t allow it. And Penny would kill you if we got one without asking.”

“She wouldn’t kill both of us?”

“She’d miss my intellectual input too much if she killed me.”

“Or she’d miss not having to pay the rent by herself.”

“That, too.” Baz opened his eyes to find Simon laying opposite him, hands still in Baz’s hair. “Don’t you have to go to work?”

“Not if I’m sick.”

“You aren’t sick."

“As far as we know. I might be a carrier. Or maybe I have a deadly disease that happens to not have any symptoms. It’s a crazy world. Anything can happen, Baz.”

Baz loved the way Simon said his name. Like it was his favorite spell. They were still speaking rather softly, something Simon only did in moments like these, when he’d just woken up. Baz felt a chill from the open window and adjusted his position, moving closer to his boyfriend, and pulling the blankets tighter around them both. Simon’s back was to Baz’s stomach now, and Baz’s arms wrapped around Simon, warming his golden shoulders.

Baz’s eyes felt heavy, but he wanted to stay awake. They didn’t get many mornings like this, what with work and school and the like. Lazy Sunday mornings did not exist in their busy, fast-paced world. Baz kissed a mole on Simon’s shoulder and asked, “Did you call in sick?” 

“I will.”

Baz thought about saying more but decided against pushing the subject. This was Simon’s third job in six months, due to forgetfulness. He wasn’t lazy, in any sense of the word, but he had so much going on in his brain that sometimes he couldn’t keep track of it all. He was trying, though.

“Baz?”

“Hmm.”

“Let’s stay in bed forever.”

“Ever and ever? Don’t you think you’d get hungry?”

“There’s granola bars on the nightstand.”

“Then forever it is.”


End file.
